a begining

 And so Christmas eve is upon us once again. Visions of sugar plums and listening for sleigh bells in the snow. In years past I would have been looking forward to services at St. Lukes. The church having been decorated with fresh pine boughs, all was ready. It was different going to church at night and it was an exciting change. I remember the Three Kings arriving, singing their way up that long center aisle. Yes, the whole cast was there but it was the Kings I remember the most. Men with booming voices echoing through the church was different, powerful, impactful, and left an impression. The service was capped by lighting small candles, the light of the world, that we would try to get home without them going out. I recall shielding them against wind and holding them as closely as I could. They stayed lighted in the car on the way home, they stayed lit until we all went to bed. Christmas eve, a time full of memories. An evening of expectations when we are children, and an evening of sentiment when we grow older.  

 It is sometimes difficult to comprehend that was more than fifty years ago. Fifty years doesn't seem that long when you have lived it. There are times when that time does get a bit, say we shall, foggy. It's a curiosity to me, our memories. Why do we remember certain things more vividly than others? I'm thinking about everyday things here, not traumatic events or unusually jubilant ones. No, I'm thinking about the everyday things we did as children or young adults. I remember those Three Kings as vividly today as the day they were walking down the aisle but the rest of the cast, not so much. The candles were unusual so I understand that. Wasn't everyday you carried a lighted candle in the backseat of the car! There was never an incident as far as I know. 

 Every now and again a reminder will appear. Like a switch being flipped the light comes on. Just the other day someone posted about oranges and  candy boxes at Christmas. I had forgotten about that. Well I guess I really hadn't forgotten but those memories were in the dark. Now I do remember getting an orange in the toe of my Christmas stocking, and getting one at church as well. When attending Jesus's birthday party we all got a box of hard candy. It was in those little boxes, like animal crackers came in, only with a Christmas theme, with a string across the top for carrying. When that happens it does make me wonder, do we ever really forget, or do we just misplace stuff? Misplaced memories that return to us once again are like seeing old friends. An old familiar face, or the sound of their voice, a comfort. 

 I have a bit of a tradition for Christmas eve. Before I go to bed I will spend some time listening to the Christmas tree. All the lights in the house are off, no television, no radio, all is quiet, only the tree is lighted. I will just sit and listen to that tree tell the stories of Christmas past. Some years it will be a few minutes others a bit longer. But I have discovered the tree has much to say if you but listen. It makes no difference if that tree is a " real " tree or an artificial one. There is nothing artificial about sentiment and memory.  Nothing artificial about whispered prayers for the new year. Just a few moments alone with everything that Christmas was, and has become to be. Each Christmas is a new birth, a new beginning, a time for redemption and for repentance. All those I love, and have loved will join me before I go to bed. All gathered around the Christmas tree, waiting in anticipation, waiting for tomorrow, a new day, a beginning.